[NicknamedBob]

Hi Bentfeather, very nice poem! Very insightful.

I've noticed most people seem to think that poets cry out from a tortured, pain-filled soul.

Naturally, I look at things a little ... differently! You are going to like this!

A Thirst for Life

I drank at life so thirstily,
I hardly paused to taste,
The sweet nectar of the essence,
I’d consumed in so much haste.

Now that the glass is nearing,
The zenith of its rise,
I try to savor every drop,
And drink more with my eyes.

The world seems filled with rainbows,
With color everywhere,
And sparkling diadems that float,
As dust motes in the air.

I’ve switched to slower motion,
To capture every glance,
I want to draw in ... Everything!
While there is still a chance.

I wonder what I’ll see on,
That distant fateful morn,
The dawning sun will rise no more,
Night’s curtain won’t be torn.

No new things to enchant me,
Will memories too fail?
I will be travelling lightly,
With new seas yet to sail.

The waters I will journey,
Will seem immense and vast,
But they are only more of what,
I’ve captured in my glass.

The liquid that refreshes me,
Will ease me when it goes,
The fire that warms me in my den,
Will yield to cooling snows.

With all these cycles turning,
There seems to be no end,
I will not fear what I may find,
Beyond the hidden bend.

NicknamedBob . . . May 13, 2004

[Soaring Feather]

Hi Bob, thank you so much.

EXCELLENT. Your poem is a very poignant work.

[SAMWolf]

I’ve switched to slower motion,
To capture every glance,
I want to draw in ... Everything!
While there is still a chance.

Loved this part.

[KangarooJacqui]

NicknamedBob, you've done it again. One more wonderful poem I should print out and hang on my bedroom wall, to read every morning.

I may even write it out myself, in longhand, to hang on the wall.

Thanks for looking at things differently! (This poet's soul is very dark indeed, at times.)

Cheers,
KJ

[snippy_about_it]

I've noticed most people seem to think that poets cry out from a tortured, pain-filled soul.

I wrote more when I was going through turmoil and strife and dreaming of the way I wanted things to be and now content I write less. :-(

[Conspiracy Guy]

I believe that there are three types of artists. Those that are tortured, those that appreciate their joy by remembering their torture, and those who are simply filled with joy.

I am a member of the second group.